


One Goes Alone

by Mystical_Magician



Series: Into the Dream [3]
Category: Bridge to Terabithia - Katherine Paterson, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Mirrormask (2005)
Genre: Crossover, Drabble, Fantasy, Gen, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 04:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical_Magician/pseuds/Mystical_Magician
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>She wasn’t there, so he must go for both of them. It was up to him to pay back to the world in beauty and caring what Leslie had loaned him in vision and strength. </em>
  <br/><em></em>
  <strong>-Katherine Paterson, Bridge to Terabithia</strong>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Goes Alone

The art show was going well, Jess thought contentedly. The dull murmur of voices washed over him as groups of people meandered from one exhibit to the next. One of his paintings had already been sold. He had worked hard to get here, to this large and exceptional gallery in London. It seemed almost surreal that he, a backwater country boy, would become such a success. May Belle had always said he was special, and Ms. Edmunds had always encouraged him, but it was Leslie, like a blazing, brilliant comet who had shot into his life and changed him irrevocably. 

He sighed, and his gaze lit upon a woman who was studying one of his paintings with terrible wistfulness. A jolt passed through him as he recognized her. He didn’t know who she was, had never seen her in his life, but he recognized her in the same way he had recognized Helena at first sight. 

Jess made his way to her side. “Hello,” he said without looking at her, choosing instead to examine the painting she seemed so enthralled with. It was the one of the sacred grove, dark with shadows, still and hallowed. 

“Good evening,” the quiet, stately voice replied. “Is this one of your paintings?” 

He turned to look at her with a smile. “It is. I’m Jess Aarons. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” 

“Susan Pevensie,” she said. “Likewise.” 

She glanced at the next painting on the wall, breath hitching at the sight. The top of a castle tower just peeked over a forest of trees, a banner waving in the wind. She blinked back the tears that flooded her vision at the sight. 

“You all right, Miss Pevensie?” Jess asked with concern. 

“Fine,” she replied, pushing back the sudden wave of grief. “Your paintings look so familiar to me, the trees, the creatures, even the castle. Almost like home.” 

“It’s called Terabithia,” Jess said. “The kingdom, I mean.” He looked at her more closely. “You lost someone as well, to the dreaming.” 

“My two brothers and younger sister,” Susan replied, voice barely above a whisper. “They were called, but I…well.” 

“She was my best friend,” he murmured. “We were in fifth grade and she had just moved into the town. She was creator and queen and, I can say this now, my other half. I was fascinated by her, but I could never quite make myself do more than just tag along. And then, only a few months later, she was gone. My younger sister May Belle became queen rising, and I…I suppose you could say I abdicated.” He grinned crookedly at his sympathetic audience. “Took me a while to be able to paint our kingdom, but there you go. It hurt for the longest time just thinking about her, and no matter how many years it’s been, I can’t quite bring myself to paint her yet. But I wanted to continue what she started, bring a bit of that magic to others.” 

“You’re a better person than I am, Mr. Aarons,” Susan said. “I turned my back on my kingdom before my siblings died, and I didn’t dare look back once they had. Not until recently. It tears a hole in my heart all over again, but I think I’m getting better bit by bit. I only hope I will see them again someday. And Aslan, if he forgives me.” 

Jess closed his eyes briefly at the mention of the name. He had never heard it before, but it spoke to him, warming his soul, and he longed to capture that love on canvas and spread it to the world. 

“Oh, naw Ms. Pevensie. I’m no better a person than you are. You just had it a bit more difficult maybe. But I’d say you’re doin’ fine.” 

“Thank you,” she said, and they smiled at each other, two equals, the woman tall and regal, the man easy-going, an invisible crown worn tilted, at an angle. 

“I think I shall enjoy the rest of your paintings before deciding on one,” Susan said decisively. 

“Take all the time you need,” Jess replied. He left her to herself then, and made his way to a nearby corner where the figure of a young woman was partly hidden among a large plant. 

“Hello, Jess,” she said in her distinct British accent as she absently juggled two hackysacks in one hand. 

“Helena,” he replied. “Shouldn’t you be mingling?” 

“You know me.” She grinned mischievously. “All of the attention sets my heart aflutter so I can hardly think straight.”

They laughed. Helena had performed in the family circus since it had first begun. She was hardly shy. 

“I hear more honest opinions when I just listen in without the people knowing I’m there. I like to hear what they think without my presence influencing them.” 

Jess nodded. “True,” he commented. 

“How is she?” Helena asked, voice reflecting her concern as she motioned toward Susan. “I would have approached, but I think she was more yours than mine.” 

“She’s nobody’s but her own,” Jess replied with a slight frown. “She was royalty too, I think. Is.”

“Sorry, that’s not how I meant it.” Helena shook her head quickly, her bangs obscuring her vision. “I just meant, I think she was more relatable to your dream than mine. Fantasy more than surreal. I mean, look at how different our artwork is.” 

Jess grinned. “You should try real art some time.” 

Helena took the mature way out and stuck her tongue out at him. It was something they had teased each other about since they had met. 

“She’ll be fine,” Jess said, leaning back against the wall with his hands in his pockets. “That Susan’s a strong woman.”


End file.
